The Vow Breaker, or The Fair Maid of Clifton · chunk 20 of 36
Sampson, William · published 1636 · first performed or written 1625 [1625(?)-1636] (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 506 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
I have an inward sorrow bids me do it, I did him wrong to gibe his miseries whenas he bore the dead Corpses in his arms, My Genius tells me, I shall have no rest Till I have made contrition; But not to him. I'd rather live subjected to a Turk, Go not my girl, i'll feast all thy senses, Thy palate shall with viands be supplied, Thine ears with heavenly rapture live inspired, Thine eyes with sportive action, and delight, Thou shalt have Music to consume the day, And waste the night. Music! harsh Ravens croak? screech-owls shrill, the augurers of night, Are first companions for my melancholy, I must go see him; if this apparition Appear not in his sight, my conjecture Shall judge it nothing, but my conscience That finds me guilty for my black offence; Follow her Niece, She hears a Pleurisy of griefs about her, And much I fear the weakness of her brain Should draw her to some ominous exigent! Would she had ne'er, infringed her vow to Bateman Or I had ne'er known this wealthy German! If he prove harsh to her, i'll make him know, An enforced hate to vengeance is not slow. Nay sweet Jo. be persuaded. Persuade me, I scorn to be persuaded? Ball thou art Heathenish, for the offence is foul which thou wouldst cloak, I'm not to be persuaded, I will doom the creature, and burn the cloak of her knavery; yet in sincerity I will do nothing without good colour. Thy colours, Jo. were better bestowed on course waiting women Madam Macaroons that sell paintings, and stop holes with plaster of Paris. Miller, Miller, thou art not mealy mouthed; those be the Heathen babbles, the maypoles of time, and Pageants of vanity, but I will convince them of error, and scour their pollutions away with the waters of my exhortations. Why shouldst thou hang thy Cat? Thou art saucy, Miller, & ought'st not to catechise me so, And it were but for country's sake. Sweet Jo. consider thy Cat is thy Countryman, Hang a poor Cat for killing a Mouse? Knowing the proverb too, Cat after Kind. As it is in the painted cloth too; when the Cat's away the Mouse will play. ay, but as it is in the painted cloth, beware in time for too much patience, to Dog or Cat will breed too much offence. She did kill a Mouse, I but when? on the forbidden day, and therefore she must die on Monday. Then shall thy zeal be proclaimed, for hanging thy Cat on Monday for killing a Mouse on Sunday. Miller thou art drunk in thy enormities, and art full of the cake of iniquity. Well, to thy execution we commit thee. Blessed be the instruments of silence; poor Pusse take it not ill that I must hang thee, by that means I free thee from bawling Mastiffs, and snarling curs; I have brought thee up of a whelp, and now will have a care of thy end.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
I have an inward sorrow bids me doe it, I did him wrong to gybe his miseries When as he bore the dead Corpes in his armes, My Genius tels me, I shall have no rest Till I have made contrition; But not to him. I'de rather live subiected to a Turke, Goe not my girle, i'le feast all thy senses, Thy pallat shall with viands be suppli'd, Thine eares with heavenly rapture live inspir'd, Thine eies with sportive action, and delight, Thou shalt have Musique to consume the day, And wast the night. Musique! harsh Ravens croake? Scritch-Owles shreile, the augurers of night, Are first companions for my mellancholy, I must goe see him; if this apparition Appeare not in his sight, my conjecture Shall judge it nothing, but my conscience That finds me guilty for my blacke offence; Follow her Neece, She heares a Plurisie of greifes about her, And much I feare the weakenes of her braine Should draw her to some ominous exigent! Would she had ne're, infring'd her vow to Bateman Or I had ne're knowne this wealthy German! If he prove harsh to her, i'le make him know, An inforc'd hate to vengeance is not slow. Nay sweete Jo. be persuaded. Persuade me, I scorne to be persuaded? Ball thou art Heathnish, for the offence is foule which thou would'st cloake, I'me not to be persuaded, I will doome the creature, and burne the cloake of her knavery; yet in sincerity I will doe nothing without good colour. Thy colours, Jo. were better bestowed on course waiting women Madam Makeroones that sell paintings, and stop holes with plaister of Paris. Miller, Miller, thou art not mealy mouth'd; those be the Heathen bables, the May-poles of time, and Pageants of vanity, but I will convince them of error, and scoure their pollutions away with the waters of my exhortations. Why should'st thou hang thy Cat? Thou art saucy, Miller, & ought'st not to Cathechise me so, And it were but for Country sake. Sweete Jo. consider thy Cat is thy Countriman, Hang a poore Cat for killing a Mouse? Knowing the proverbe too, Cat after Kinde. As it is in the painted cloath too; when the Cat's away the Mouse will play. I, but as it is in the painted cloath, beware in time for too much patience, to Dog or Cat will breede too much offence. She did kill a Mouse, I but when? on the forbidden day, and therefore she must die on Munday. Then shall thy zeale be proclaim'd, for hanging thy Cat on Munday for killing a Mouse on Sunday. Miller thou art drunke in thy enormities, and art full of the cake of iniquity. Well, to thy execution we commit thee. Blessed be the instruments of silence; poore Pusse take it not ill that I must hang thee, by that meanes I free thee from bawling Mastifs, and snarling Currs; I have brought thee up of a whelpe, and now will have a care of thy end.